In Want of Baking Flour
by wishyfishy
Summary: Donna's searching for baking flour for a dessert. But there's only one bag left, and she gets into a fight with another ginger about it. She's not giving up, even if the woman says she needs the flour to save the world. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I think you can guess that I don't really own anything of DW. If I did I would have a TARDIS and wouldn't bother writing this. But since I don't, I guess I'm stuck here writing fanfic for you all.

Author's Note: This is just a fun little oneshot that popped in my head one day that I couldn't help but write. It's nothing much, but hope you like it all the same.

Donna Temple-Noble was walking down the store isle, searching for baking flour. The chef on the telly had been going on and on for weeks now how much you can do with baking flour and there was one particular recipe that she was just dying to try.

She was currently walking past shelves full of sugar, regular flour, chocolate chips, brown sugar, and other baking items that anyone could possibly need or want. Her husband was a couple isles over, attaining the bananas needed for the recipe and the tea that they were out of.

_Baking flour, baking flour_, thought Donna. _Where are you?_

When she reached the end of the isle, she found it. It was a rumbled, slightly crushed package that had obviously been in the back of the shelf, but had recently been pushed forward towards the public's eye. The reason for this sad parcel's sudden appearance in the spotlight was the simple fact that there was no other bag of baking flour to take its place. The rest of the shelf was empty. Apparently everyone else was watching the same television chef and had same brilliant idea of trying their own hand at making his recipes.

Donna reached for the package, and at the exact moment that her fingers grasped the bag, someone else's hand had seized it too. She turned to face the person whom that hand belonged to. The woman standing in front of her was younger and thinner than Donna, yet she had the same fiery red hair that lived on her own head. Her green eyes stared at Donna with surprise, like she hadn't even noticed her there before reaching for the baking flour.

A short moment passed in this fashion until Donna realized that she was wasting time. She had to get this dessert made before tonight. She was having guests over. And with that she took the package off the shelf and out of the other woman's hand, and placed it in her hand cart.

"Hey, that's mine. I grabbed it first," stated the woman in a slight Scottish accent.

"No I did," replied Donna.

"Listen here, lady, give me that baking flour. It's _very_ important," said the woman seriously, taking a step forward.

"Important?" responded Donna incredulously. "How can a package of baking flour be that important?"

"Look, it just is okay. So are you going to give it to me or not?"

"I don't think so," said Donna, taking her own step forward.

Now if Donna was a sensible person, she would find no point in arguing over this insignificant little foodstuff and just give the woman the baking flour. But Donna could be a very insensible person if she wanted to be. She had laid hands on the package first, so in her opinion, the bag was rightfully hers. Despite the fact that about a month ago she hadn't even heard of baking flour, she wasn't about to let this toothpick of a woman tell her that she couldn't have it.

"Lady," the woman said. "Bad things could happen if I don't get that flour."

"Like what? The world will end?" questioned Donna. A little painful ping went off at the back of her head as she said that, but she ignored it.

"You know what? That's exactly what will happen," answered the woman, gravely.

"You really expect me to believe that, don't you?"

"Actually yes!"

"Well I think that's a load of bollocks!"

"Look, do you-"

But the woman was cut off by the arrival of Donna's husband.

"Donna, what are you doing?" he questioned, coming up from behind, the bananas and tea in his own hand cart. "Are you starting another fight again?"

"She's trying to make me believe that she needs the last bag of baking flour to save the world," explained Donna to her husband, trying to make him see the reason behind her arguing with this woman.

But before anyone could say anything in response, another voice came from the other side of the isle.

"Amy! There you are," said a man, coming up to the woman. "Did you get the baking flour?"

The man was thin and tall in stature, had a large nose protruding his face, and his head was topped off with sandy hair. He looked like someone that Donna could've easily pass in the street. He was that unremarkable.

"No," huffed the woman, crossing her arms. "This lady won't let me have the last bag no matter what I tell her."

"Well, you can be a little aggressive," he muttered, turning towards Donna. "Can we please have the baking flour?" he asked politely.

"I got to it first. It's mine," replied Donna, standing her ground. There was no way that Scot or scrawny man was going to push her around, even though she had a faint feeling that there had once been another skinny man whom she would follow anywhere. And as she thought this a tiny headache began in the back of her mind.

"Donna," sighed her husband. "Don't be a child. Just give them the flour."

"But-" However before she could state how much she wanted the flour for herself, another voice entered the fray.

"Ponds!" yelled a man, jumping up behind the woman and the man.

He was a strange sight to see. He had a strong jaw and floppy brown hair, but that wasn't he half of it. Not only was he wearing a tweed jacket, a jacket that reminded Donna very much of her History teacher in High School, he was also sporting suspenders and, of all things, a bowtie.

"Did you get the baking flour? Hurry, the Fiddiches are about the hatch! We need that flour to neutralize them before they start to feed," exclaimed the eccentric man. "Or do you want the human race to be devoured by slimy worm thingies?"

"Of course not! It's just that this lady won't give us the last package of the stuff," answered the woman in frustration.

The strange man turned towards Donna, really noticing her for the first time. His eyes widened slightly, and his mouth, which was open in reply, closed. He was looking at her like she was a famous celebrity, or even like powerful mob boss.

"And what are you looking at?" snapped Donna, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. She had almost called him _spaceman_, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. Yet there was something familiar in that odd man's eyes. Something she couldn't quiet place. Her headache grew.

"N-nothing…" the weird man stuttered. He turned away from her and back towards his friends. "Amy, Rory, let's go. I think we can find baking flour somewhere else."

"Doc-" But before the woman could finish, the odd man placed his finger on her lips.

"Sh-sh-ssshhh," he said urgently. "Don't worry. We have enough time. Now let's go!"

And with that he practically pulled the two away towards the front of the store. The woman glanced back confused, but was soon shoved out of sight.

"Now that was weird," commented Donna's husband once they were gone.

"No shit, Sherlock," replied Donna, beginning to walk towards the register so that she could pay for the things and get out of there.

Her head was pounding, and she felt like had ran a mile, though she had no idea why. She was consequently angry at this, and just wanted to get home and lay down. _Forget about attempting to bake that banana dessert_, she thought. She didn't bake that well anyway…


End file.
